The Dynamics of Coexistence in the Middle East

Negotiating Boundaries Between Christians, Muslims, Jews and Samaritans in Palestine

Julia Droeber

• Publisher: I.B. Tauris
• Year: 2013
• Print ISBN: 9781780765273
• eBook ISBN: 9780857734419
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Social Sciences
• Subtopic: Anthropology
• Index: Social Sciences

Palestine is often characterised, from afar, as being plagued by insurmountable difference and violent conflict along religious and ethnic lines. Julia Droeber looks beyond this, as she draws out the way in which sameness and difference is constructed and dealt with in the day to day relationships and practices of different religious communities in the West Bank town of Nablus. She follows the reality of coexistence and the constant negotiation of boundaries between Christians, Muslims and one of the last remaining Samaritan communities worldwide, and how these relationships are complicated by an occupier perceived as 'Jewish'. This is a sensitive and nuanced study of cultural and religious space in a much-contested region. It illustrates how differences are reconciled, accommodated and emphasised, while existing alongside a common sense of belonging. Droeber's findings resonate beyond the town of Nablus, and the West Bank, and into the broader fields of Middle East Studies, Anthropology, Comparative Religion and Peace and Conflict Resolution Studies.

1

INTRODUCTION: NABLUS AS RELIGIOUS AND CULTURAL SPACE

When I for the first time went to speak to the minister of the old Anglican church in the Old City of Nablus, I was surprised to hear that the Church had actually given land to the Muslim community to build a mosque. As a result, I was able, while standing in the church yard, to see the minaret of that particular mosque right opposite. This was not the first time I was struck by such architectural closeness: my research stay in Jordan provided me with a similar picture, as I have explained elsewhere (Droeber 2005). Yet, while the research I conducted in Jordan focused on Muslims alone, I had come to Nablus to research the three different religious communities in the city: Muslims, Christians, and Samaritans. And while in Jordan I quite naively took this image as a beautiful symbol for the peaceful coexistence of religious communities in this part of the so-called Middle East, I had, by the time I visited that church and that mosque in Nablus, heard rather conflicting stories about these relationships. The church and the mosque did, however, become a symbol for this study, inasmuch as they quite nicely represent the official version of coexistence of religious communities in Palestine in general and Nablus in particular. Spire and minaret sit peacefully next to each other; tolerating each other’s call/tolling for prayer.

What this image fails to tell is the unofficial or hidden story of inter-religious relations. In this book, I am trying to disentangle these two stories and thus shedding some light on the possible reasons behind the coexistence of diverging versions of social relations. In this chapter, I will briefly introduce the research project before providing an overview of the historical, political, and socio-cultural position, in which it is located. While I would argue that this study can speak to community relations across Palestine, there are specific aspects that mark Nablus as a particularly useful fieldwork site. As there currently exist very few anthropological and ethnographic studies that deal with religious communities and/or minorities in Palestine, it is useful to locate such a study in a geographically circumscribed area, and as such it sees itself as continuing a time-honoured anthropological tradition. Further studies can then provide a more comparative framework.

Doing fieldwork in Nablus

I have had this research idea since the time I did my doctoral research. As I have indicated above, that research was about the role of religion in the lives of young women and its relation to social change. By coincidence, and against my own orientalist stereotypes (that the so-called Middle East is Muslim), my research sample included a fair number of Christian young women. Back then, I was struck by the similarities between the outlook and practices of Christian and Muslim women, but did not pursue the issue of similarities and differences any further. Yet, I was determined to return to this question at a later point in my research career. This opportunity presented itself in 2009, when a research grant from the University of Aberdeen in Scotland, gave me the chance to pursue the issue in a slightly different context: in Palestine.

The reason for choosing Palestine in general, and Nablus in particular, are personal to an extent. Firstly, I wanted to spend some extended period of time in Palestine in order to get to know it better. Previously, I had only visited briefly. Secondly, having lived in Dundee in Scotland, a city that is twinned with Nablus, and being an active member of the Dundee Nablus Twinning Association, I had some previous knowledge of Nablus and its religious communities. I reckoned that this combination of facts would make it not only a very interesting research site, but also relatively easy to find entry to the research community, a problem that always haunts anthropologists.

Against this background I designed the research project, initially planned only for two months in the summer of 2009, with possible return visits. What I did not anticipate at the time was that I would, during this initial field stay, meet my future husband and, a year later, get married there and stay for good. In anthropological terms, this is of course an ideal situation, long-term fieldwork indeed. This book, then, is based on two months of intensive fieldwork, as well as two years of immersion into the community I was hoping to research. Perhaps it was coincidence that my husband and his family were from the local Christian community, so that I did, and continue to have, access to local Christians in Nablus from a very close range. This gave me the very rare opportunity to conduct the intimate research I was hoping to achieve, namely on what was going on “behind the scenes” of inter-religious relations.

These circumstances, however, also harbour a significant problem: the research may be unbalanced in favour of Christians, as I have a lot more and lot more intimate information from them than from and about the Samaritans. Muslim research partners are relatively easy to get by, as I deal with them on a day-to-day basis as neighbours, work colleagues, students, and friends. The Samaritans, on the other hand, must be sought out, as they have “removed” themselves from the scene by moving out of town and into the settlement on Mount Gerizim. In other words, they only come to town on business, and have to be visited purposely in their settlement. This I did only twice. I did, however, have further opportunity to speak to them on a number of occasions, when their relatively new cultural youth association organised events in the local university, where I teach sociology and anthropology. Obviously, this information does not come anywhere near the ideal of participant observation that anthropologists have made their favourite fieldwork methodology. In other words, while the Christian component of the research leans more on the “participant” side of the continuum, the Samaritan one is largely “observation”. Only the Muslim element of the triangle comes close to participant observation.

The research methods I have used in this framework are standard anthropological fare: participation, observation, unstructured and narrative interviews, historical research via books, as well as to a limited extent household analysis, network analysis, and genealogies. Most of this is detailed in Bernard (1994), so I do not intend to go into any details here. What I would like to note, however, is that the research approach I have applied is strongly influenced by feminist views of the research process. This has, for instance, been expressed quite early in editions such as Bell et al. (1993), Reinharz (1992), Moore (1988), and Altorki and El-Solh (1988). This means that the way I have done the research, analysed the data, and written this book reflects such ideas. It also means that I am very much aware of my position as a female researcher in a patriarchal society, such as Palestine, and the limits (and opportunities) this presents. Being married to a local man has altered my position considerably to what I have experienced before in Jordan, yet the fact remains that anthropological research conducted by a woman is often quite far removed from what people in Palestine understand by the term “research”. In other words, I was not always taken seriously, since I did not have questionnaires and was not a man. On the other hand, when I did bring my position at the university and/or my local husband into play, the situation changed, often considerably. For one, “doctors” at the university stand in very high regard in Palestinian society. Furthermore, through my husband I could be placed in the network of social and family relations of the local community – I stopped being the anonymous foreign researcher. As always, there is a downside to what I essentially consider an advantage: having a fixed position within local society also means having to face certain expectations about behaviour. At times, this was coming close to the issue of “studying one’s own society”, which has been at the centre of debate in anthropology for quite some time (see, for instance, the cases in Altorki and El-Solh 1988). Trying to find a balance has not always been easy.

What I have done, then, in order to obtain the data for this book, is to engage people in conversations about the issue of inter-religious relations. This was not always done with their knowledge that I was doing this particular kind of research. In the beginning I did tell everyone I met that this was my research topic, yet over time I stopped doing this, and the people I spoke to (often the same people over and over again) probably forgot about it. Sometimes I stimulated discussions by asking provocative questions, more frequently, however, I simply had to listen to people’s conversations and take note of them. Especially in the Christian community, relations to the religious majority were the subject of daily debates. Samaritans also have express views about their relationship with the Muslim majority, yet since they have moved to Mount Gerizim, there is less opportunity for direct encounters and therefore potential tensions. Muslims usually had to be prompted, since they very rarely worry about the religious minorities in their midst. Knowledge of my personal situation – being a Christian and married to a local Christian – did sometimes trigger discussions. What I heard in such discussions and conversations form the backbone of this book.

The way I have tried to make sense of this data was inspired by two concepts: the hidden and public transcripts described by Scott (1990) as well as the habitus and distinction ideas developed by Bourdieu (1977a, 1984). I will explain these concepts further while I am going along and depending on the themes that have emerged from my research. At this point I would just briefly like to introduce them in order to get an overview of the way I see and interpret inter-religious relations in Nablus. This might be applicable elsewhere, or it might not, since the political and socio-cultural contexts, which are different in other parts of the world, crucially influence such relations.

The explanatory framework

Bourdieu, over the course of his academic career, has developed several concepts that might be useful for the analysis of social practice in the Nablus context. Yet, I am hesitant to apply the formula that he developed for his model of praxis: [(habitus) (capital)] + field = practice. The reasons for my reluctance are that, for one, I am unsure whether I have sufficient data for this. I believe that it would take many more years of research in the area to successfully apply the formula; and secondly, while the formula makes it clear that action is more than just one element of the three (habitus, capital, or field), it does not clarify what the exact relationship or weighting between the three elements should be. I would argue, however, that even on their own, these concepts may be useful for our understanding of relations in the Nablus context. I will take up the concept of capital when I discuss the drawing of boundaries between groups and classes. Similarly, I employ the concept of field when I discuss networks and relations. At this point I would like to take up the idea of habitus, so well-known among social scientist, but so often misunderstood, since it reflects the way I see individual and social action and actors.

Bourdieu (1977a: 8) sees action not as compliance to norms and rules, but at the same time it takes place within normative situations. One of the reasons for this is the uncertainties of everyday life and that the outcomes are, therefore, not always clear for the actor (Bourdieu 1977a: 9). And since Bourdieu sees all action as interest oriented, they follow rules only to the extent that it lies in their interests. The perceived choices of individual actors are, of course, only to a limited extent real choices. The limits to free choice are set by what Bourdieu calls dispositions. These, as Swartz (1997: 100) explains, “internalize in practical form what seems appropriate or possible in situations of challenge, constraint, or opportunity”. Bourdieu (1977a: 10) also refers to such dispositions as ‘practical knowledge’ or a ‘sense of practice’. Swartz (ibid.) summarises this view of actors quite usefully: “Actors are not rule followers or norm obeyers but strategic improvisers who respond dispositionally to the opportunities and constraints offered by various situations”. Bourdieu himself (1990: 53) describes this relationship between social actors and social structures as “habitus”, a by now time-honoured concept that has not yet lost its currency. In The Logic of Practice (1990: 53) he defines this as follows:

A system of durable, transposable dispositions, structured structures predisposed to function as structuring structures, that is, as principles which generate and organize practices and representations that can be objectively adapted to their outcomes without presupposing a conscious aiming at ends or an express mastery of the operations necessary in order to attain them.

The dispositions that Bourdieu refers to go back to early socialisation, during which external structures are internalised. It is these internalised dispositions that provide the limits of what is deemed possible, reasonable, or probable. In other words, the habitus, or the dispositions of individual actors set both limits for actions as well as create the perceptions and practices of individual action; they shape the perceived chances of success or failure. Bourdieu (1977) uses these concepts mainly for his analysis of social classes, to explain how and why certain structural arrangements make sense to the dominant and the dominated. He argues that members of a specific class or social groups largely share a habitus, since they undergo similar socialisation processes in similar social environments. In Distinction (Bourdieu 1984: 170) he describes habitus as “necessity internalized and converted into a disposition”, social and economic necessity that is constantly turned into a “virtue by instituting ‘choices’”. It is important to note that these dispositions are both cognitive as well as practical, embodied, which means that they become evident in the way people of a certain class comport themselves.

The reason why I emphasise these concepts of individual and group action for the Nablus context is that they help us comprehend some of the similarities and differences between Christians, Samaritans, and Muslims. Growing up in a similar socio-cultural environment, children and adolescents undergo similar socialisation experiences. If we understand this in terms of habitus and dispositions, it can go a long way in understanding why the members of the three religious communities do indeed have much in common in terms of social and cultural norms and practices. At the same time, there is some reflection of Bourdieu’s analysis of social class in terms of habitus to be found in the Nablus context. Here I refer to the differences in attitudes, worldviews, and practices between Muslims, Christians, and Samaritans, differences between the dominant and the dominated. Again, if we assume some degree of homogeneity especially within the Christian and Samaritan communities, we can expect similar dispositions, similar expectations and aspirations. I have indeed on several occasions heard them say that “the Muslims are cleverer than we are” (especially with regard to business shrewdness), thus limiting their own expectations of success and achievement. There has even been a campaign at the local university to reserve special places of study for young people from the Samaritan community in an effort to raise their level of educational achievement and, therefore, chances of success.

It is on the subconscious level of dispositions and habitus that Nabulsis live a degree of sameness. It was something that struck me during the research I conducted in Jordan: Christians and Muslims would constantly say how different they were, yet at the same time the similarities between them in what they do were strikingly obvious to me as an external observer. It is also on this subconscious level that the differences between dominant (Muslims) and dominated (Christians and Samaritans) are perpetuated. Yet, there is another level on which differences are maintained, an aspect perhaps neglected by Bourdieu. Here I refer to conscious attempts of resistance, of trying to consciously be different, of drawing discursive lines between selves and others through a variety of means. This is the other side of the coin of inter-religious relations that I have observed in Nablus. As I have just mentioned, despite the existing practical similarities between the members of the different communities, especially individuals of the minorities are engaged in a constant effort of setting themselves apart as “different”. For my understanding of this aspect of community relations I have found Scott’s concept of hidden and public transcripts very useful. I will take up these ideas again at a later point, but would like to introduce them here for the reader get a better picture of the explanatory framework that shapes this study.

One could argue that Scott’s (1990) ideas of hidden and public transcript in the relation between the dominant and the dominated are common sense. Yet, they clarify systematically how and why resistance of the dominated against the dominant is expressed, and the role these speeches, gestures, and practices (“transcripts”) play in maintaining or altering the relations between these groups. Similar to my experience in Jordan and Palestine, Scott (1990: ix) observed in Malaysia that there were always diverging accounts of events and that sometimes the same people told two (or more) different stories, depending on the situation and the audience. He calls these two “stories” the “public transcript” – “describing the open interaction between subordinates and those who dominate” (Scott 1990: 2) – and the “hidden transcript” – “discourse that takes place ‘offstage,’ beyond direct observation by powerholders” (Scott 1990: 4). He mentions that the powerful also have a hidden transcript, one that represents “the practices and claims of their rule that cannot be openly avowed” (Scott 1990: xii), yet he largely focuses on the hidden transcript of the powerless, and this is of less relevance for this study. He also explains that the shape of the hidden transcript depends on the extent of oppression: “the more menacing the power, the thicker the mask” (Scott 1990: 3). I will come to an evaluation of the domination in the Nablus context as reflected in the hidden transcripts later on.

The public transcript, in Scott’s understanding is a performance by both the dominant and the dominated, put on for both sides to maintain the status quo. It is the public transcript that is most commonly observed in studies of power relations. In the case of studies of religious minorities in the so-called Middle East this means that, unless there is public violence and open discrimination involved, it is the public transcript of good neighbourly relations that predominates. Since the hidden transcripts are only to be recovered in intimate situations “offstage”, it requires in-depth, long-term, ethnographic research that is rarely feasible. The public transcript that is at the heart of most studies of inter-religious relations in the region can be described as a “self-portrait of dominant elites as they would have themselves seen” (Scott 1990: 18; emphasis in the original). In other words, it is in the interest of the Muslim majority population, especially in the current political climate, to portray themselves as having good neighbourly relations with the religious minorities living in the region. This is not to say that this may not be true in every case, but it is a biased image. In the case of Palestine, there are indeed hardly any of the violent incidents between members of different religious communities as is reported from, for instance, Egypt and Iraq. Yet, the hidden transcript that exists among the minorities reveals that not all is well. As Scott rightly points out, the public transcript “is designed to be impressive, to affirm and naturalize the power of dominant elites, and to con...

Table of contents

• Cover Page
• About the author
• Title Page
• Contents
• 1. Introduction: Nablus as a religious and cultural space
• 2. Boundaries: Negotiated, embodied, manipulated
• 3. Distinction: The making of “selves” and “Others”
• 4. Gendered taboos: Marriage, hospitality, and dress
• 5. Networks: Exchange, relationships, and space
• 6. Fields: Tracing shifting relations
• Notes
• Bibliography
• Index
• eCopyright